Chapter twenty-three

23.
I loved visiting my grandpa when he was having a good day. Old people (oh, I mean elderly people) have such great stories. It's like having a book read to you, only the stories have really happened to people that you know. Even better than a book.
I went to the nursing home after school on Monday. Granddad was feeling good, and I pushed him in his wheelchair to an inside garden where we sat and just talked for a while. I told him all about my conversation with Barbra, and how it had made me realize that often times we don't see the value of the people closest to us.
“Do you know what I'm talking about, Grandpa?” I asked him, wondering if I was sounding stupid.
He gave me a nice old-man smile and patted my knee. “Yes, I do. It makes perfect sense. You're sometimes very wise for your age, Shane. I never used to try and get to know my parents. I think that it's a good thing for you to be doing. And not just your mother, Shane. My son-in-law also has had a life. I mean, an interesting life.”
“Yeah, I know about Dad's life,” I nodded. “He had it pretty hard. But he doesn't seem to like going into many details about it. So I don't know how to get anything else out of him.”
“Maybe you don't need more details about his past, then. What is that boy's name? The one with the sick mother? Well, anyway, think about him. He's your age. What if he still hasn't gotten to know his mom and now he might not have her left very much longer? If your father doesn't want to talk about the past, then don't. Talk about the present, why don't you. There's no time like the present, after all! See, when you're ancient like me, that's the kind of thing you think about a lot. That's also why I'm so glad you, kiddo, have come to visit me.” He chuckled, and I couldn't help smiling.
“Well, you're pretty cool too, Gramps.”
He just laughed, and instructed me to 'wheel him over that-a-way further'.
I had a great visit with him. We talked about so many things. It was almost like going to counseling all over again, but different, of course. He also just told me war stories, and things like that. I even met a couple of his old buddies who had recently gone to live in the same home as he did. They were great, all animated while talking and giving hand movements and everything. Some teens don't like elderly folks, or retirement homes or things like that. But to me, people were people, no matter their age. Just like little kids can be cute, so can the older ones. Not wanting to sound weird, or anything, of course.
“You know what, Grandpa?” I asked as I was getting ready to leave. “You're a really wise person. You kind of remind me a little about my old counselor from school, who I told you about, you know?”
“Except I'm not quite as strange, right?” He winked. I smiled and gave him a hug, then ran outside, not wanting to miss my bus home.
I was very thoughtful on the ride back to my house. I had been lucky enough to catch a window seat, and a small middle-aged man sat next to me. He was quiet, and I was too, naturally. My mind started wandering back to early years, when I was a child. All of a sudden, a memory I had of R and I when we were only about 6 or 7 flooded back into my mind, and it was all I could do not to laugh out loud...
We were little kids, playing together. It was summer and we were in R's backyard, jumping on his old trampoline. We would always have competitions to see who could bounce the highest.
“I'm going higher!” I would shout.
“Nu-uhhh. I am!” R would be certain.
But we never really fought about the winner. We just had fun seeing how high we could go. But in the specific memory I was thinking of, R accidentally bounced a bit too high, and landed on the ground instead of the trampoline. He wasn't hurt, just really shook up.
I remembered my small body running over to him. “Are you okay?”
Then Barbra ran outside, worried for her son. I didn't remember anything exactly that was said, but I just remembered I thought it was so scary that R had flown off of the trampoline.
Not exactly a typical funny memory, I know. But it stuck me as slightly ironic. Life is so different when we're children. Back then, the scariest thing happening was someone jumping off a trampoline (and not even getting hurt). But now... things were happening left and right. People getting sick, people struggling with addictions, and people realizing how short our existence really is. That's a lot more serious than life as a child. Strange. How things change so much over the years. But I'm glad that kids get some years to be young and carefree. Or at least, I sure hope that all kids get those years. That made me think of my dad, and what Granddad had said about him. I knew that my dad hadn't led a very happy life until he left for college and lived on his own. That's when he met my mom. And then they had gotten married. I really want to know more about Dad's life. I know the basic story, but not details. Is Grandpa sure that I don't need more details from the past? Because I would like some. But maybe he's right, because he's so smart. I guess I could ask Dad about... the present. But it just seems weird. I tried to remember what I always talked about with my father when we were together. Strange enough, I couldn't think of anything. There was some idle chatter, of course. We sometimes talked about school, but that wasn't serious conversation. The subjects of sports, fishing, video games, books, and movies came up sometimes. But we didn't ever talk much about him. I really didn't know much at all about his work, or what he did. I knew he was an insurance agent, but that was about it. I had visited his office a few times, but I didn't remember it very well. I wouldn't know my way around if I went there.
That made me wonder something else. I had always thought that I was the only shy one in the family. The different one, the odd man out, the black sheep (I think you get it). But it hit me just then – maybe my dad was shy, too! He wasn't very talkative, except around family. Even then, my mom always dominated the conversations. Huh. Very interesting. By then, the bus had reached my stop. I jumped out and headed down the sidewalk to my house.
“I'm home!” I called as I stepped inside, as usual when I was coming home from school.
“I'm in the kitchen,” she called back. “Can you come in for a minute?”
“Sure...” I kicked my shoes off, dropped my backpack, and plodded into the other room.
She was sitting in the kitchen, cutting some chicken.
“Eww. What are we having for dinner?”
She looked at me and I could tell immediately she wasn't feeling very good. “First of all, it is not 'eww'. It's just chicken, and you perfectly well know that this is how it looks before it's cooked. And yes, we're having chicken casserole for dinner. I hope you're not too hungry, though, because it won't be done for a while. I've been swamped with work here. Why didn't you come home right away?”
“Well, um, you didn't tell me to come home right away. I went to visit grandpa, and we talked for a long time. He was feeling good, so I thought I should stay, and-”
“Oh, fine, you're not at fault here or anything, Shane! Just go do your homework, okay?”
I stumbled back, surprised at how she was acting – pretty moody. But I did what she said, and went to my room, since I was going to anyway.
I finished my homework, and then stayed in my room for a little while, trying to wait out mom's 'mood'. I figured that she would be over it eventually. I was called down to dinner by Dad's voice, so I went down to eat . The meal was quiet. Not much was said, except for a few questions or remarks from my father. I don't think Mom uttered one word. I was pretty uncomfortable with it all, so I just shoveled food into my mouth (it was pretty good when cooked, actually), and then scattered into the computer room. I stared out a window at the dark sky as the computer booted up. The stars hadn't appeared yet, everything was just black.
The computer dinged! and I logged on. Browsing through my Facebook friends reminded me of that day a few weeks before, when I was feeling so down-and-out about being shy, and therefore being un-popular. It was so different that second time, though, because, when I actually thought about it, I had changed, a lot. Of course my life had also changed, drastically, but I had changed with it. I was friends with Sophia, James, Kyle, and Mike. I was even becoming sort-of friends with Bryn (although I must admit our relationship was pretty confusing to me at that time). And I was more outgoing. I wasn't the kind of person who would stand up in class and do the hokey pokey just because someone dared them to, no. I would never ever be that kind of person. But I had made new friends. I acted (mostly) natural around them. And they had accepted me.
I smiled as I clicked on R's name and went to his page. But that smile faded, disappeared, when I saw what was written there. In fact, I actually felt myself grow colder when I read the words. Right there, up top, plain as day: “just when I think i'm okay, i'm not. just when I think that i'm over my depression, it comes back. just when I think i've had enough pain... i haven't.”
I must have stared at that screen for at least a minute, maybe two, maybe three, until I came to my sense again.
“Oh, dang.” I breathed. That can't be good. I couldn't completely make sense of R's words, but I got the gist of them. And I was smart enough to know that they weren't just idle speech- or, well, idle typing, I suppose. But even then, when I knew something was wrong, I didn't know half of it.
I was about to find out, though.